


(Coffee) Beans of Justice

by Occamaestro



Series: To marry Tomarry (is a difficult task) [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Batman Fusion, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Baby Harry Potter, Betaed, Crack Treated Seriously, Cute, Cute Ending, Cute Harry Potter, Cute Kids, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, Platonic Relationships, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Superheroes, smol beans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occamaestro/pseuds/Occamaestro
Summary: Harry Potter is seven years old when he finds out Voldemort’s true identity: Tom Marvolo Riddle, a bartender at the ‘Cafe Moste Evile’. If only anyone would believe him.orIn which Voldemort is trying to be a supervillain but people don't know anything, Harry Potter is a cute little smol bean, Tom Marvolo Riddle is deathly afraid of fangirls, and chaos reigns supreme.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle
Series: To marry Tomarry (is a difficult task) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112675
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	(Coffee) Beans of Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sayuri_Tamano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayuri_Tamano/gifts).



> Okay so hello! I haven't posted in a while, so here you go. I just wanted to say this fic is like, my heart and soul and that It couldn't have been even half as good without the help of my AMAZING beta, Sayuri_Tamano. <3 Thank you so much <3

“I figured it out!” Harry announced triumphantly, hands on his hips.

Ronald Weasley, the only boy at his school who talked to him, looked up from the magazine he was reading. 

“Really?” he asked, somewhat cynically for a seven-year-old, but hey, that was what happened when you had six siblings.

Harry nodded earnestly, completely missing the skeptical look on the red-head’s face. 

“It’s Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

“Who?” asked Ron, his eyes swiveling back down to his sports magazine, uninterested. 

Harry Potter was many things.  _ Bright _ , said his principal;  _ creative _ , said his teachers.  _ A complete liar _ , said everyone else. He was known for making up stories, and whether they were true or not, they were unbelievable to a point where everyone assumed he had done it all for attention. 

One time, he had lectured everyone on quantum theory, and how, by his calculations, he was sure that in one universe magic existed and that everyone except the Dursleys, (his relatives,) were in fact, magical. 

Another, he had come to the conclusion that Dumbledore, a past retired superhero, was truly just a manipulative goat who used his age and so-called knowledge to his advantage. (“He was a good manipulator, I’ll give him that, but played the ‘power of love’ card! For God's sake, he wasn’t even original!”)

That was why now, when Harry had become fixated on Lord Voldemort, Godric Hollow’s newest superhero, everyone had dismissed his theories as simply that. Theories. 

Harry, though, was determined to prove them wrong. 

“You know,” he said, leaning forward to glare at Ron’s sitting figure, “Tom Marvolo Riddle, the barista and manager of Cafe Moste Evil?” 

Ron scrunched his nose for a minute, trying to place the name with a face. When he did, he burst out laughing. 

“Tom Riddle?” he asked, his chest heaving with the recently departed laugher. “You mean the handsome dude who gives lollipops to kids? There’s no way he’s Voldemort.” 

Harry rubbed his temples. People were so stupid these days. 

“It's an anagram,” he explained. “Tom Marvolo Riddle can be rearranged to spell ‘I am Lord Voldemort’.” 

Ron looked at him. At Harry's earnest face he burst into howls once again. 

Harry, annoyed, rolled his eyes and walked away. He had assumed people being stupid in regards to superheroes was a movie thing- see: face-blindness- but apparently, it happened in real life too. 

_ ‘Oh well,’  _ Harry thought. _ ‘At least only I get the privilege of bugging the newest morally dubious superhero of Godric's Hollow.’  _

\--

“Hi,” said Harry as he strained to look up the counter. He was on his tip-toes, but he could still only barely see over the hard marble. 

“Hello?” asked Tom Riddle A.K.A Voldemort, looking down at him. “What can I get for you?” 

Harry, who had opened his mouth to confess to the entire store that Voldemort was in fact, this man, paused, thinking. 

“A lollipop, please,” he said at last. 

Riddle/Voldemort (why wouldn’t anyone believe him about this? Their similarities were  _ overwhelming _ ) nodded, the tips of his lips tilted in a smirk, his not-red eyes glinting with amusement. 

“Okay, but you’ll have to buy something afterwards,” he warned as he passed the small boy a lollipop. 

Harry opened it slowly, examining the candy. Tentatively he put it in his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment before-

“EWWW!” He shouted loudly, spitting out the candy. “THERE’S A HAIR ON THE-” 

As expected, Voldemort clamped a hand over his mouth, shooting warm smiles to the customers who had turned to watch the spectacle. 

Harry bit his hand.

Riddle hissed in pain, turning his eyes back to Harry. “You little-” 

Harry, who was feeling generous, made sure Voldemort wouldn’t be fired for swearing at a kid. That would be very bad for the crime rates. (He filed it away as a backup plan.)

“I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER!” he screamed, using the shrill voice he reserved for such scenes. 

“Kid,” growled Riddle, ushering him into the employee hallway and dropping his outer ‘angel’ act, “I am the manager.” 

“Oh. Well yes, that’s what I thought,” said Harry, who was now tugging on his sleeve. “Come with me, Mr. Voldemort, sir.” 

Riddle choked. 

At his silence, Harry looked back at him, his green eyes almost comically magnified by his round glasses. 

“Oh good,” he said brightly. “You’re not denying it- that gets old very quickly.” 

“How?” Voldemort asked weakly. 

Harry smiled. 

“So you believe me then,” he said happily. “That’s a first.” 

The superhero raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t ask.”

Voldemort wisely did not push further. 

“Also,” Harry whined, “have you ever read  _ anything _ on maintaining secret identities? I mean, come  _ on _ , an anagram? How obvious can you get!?” 

Voldemort opened his mouth, presumably to defend his choice of name, but Harry wasn’t done. 

“And seriously!” continued the green-eyed wonder. “Flight from Death?  _ Really? _ I mean, I get it─ immortality, living forever, blah blah blah, but can  _ anyone _ be creative for once?”

“Wow,” Voldemort said dryly, “I’m being roasted about my name choices by a literal child.” 

“A literal child that can make names better than you!” Harry quipped.

“You know you can’t tell anyone about this,” Riddle said a moment later, moving to place his hands on the tiny kid’s shoulders. 

Harry swatted the airborne arms, turning away.

“Yah I know, yadda yadda yadda, telling people could cause safety issues for _some_ _reason_ even though super villains come after you already,” he said, voice slightly louder than before.

“I don’t see the problem, but I’ll go along with it,” 

“It’s not the safety issue that I'm worried abo-” Voldemort cut himself off, realizing his mistake. Seriously, why was it so easy to talk to this kid?

Harry looked at him, bright green eyes unblinking.

Voldemort said nothing, resisting the urge to squirm awkwardly.

“Aah,“ he said after a moment. “It’s the fangirls, isn’t it? Nobody likes the fangirls.” 

Voldemort let out a breath and buried his face in his hands. 

It was at this moment that he knew he was never going to get rid of this kid. Was it too late to opt-out of Godric's hollow and move to Australia? 

-oOo-

**A few months later**

-oOo-

_ Jingle _

“Hi Voldemort!” Harry called out as he walked into the cafe, grabbing a lollipop from the open bin next to the counter. 

As he said the name, people’s heads swiveled in his direction, before going back to their businesses when they noticed who had spoken. 

“Hey kid,” said Tom, not looking up from the drink he was making. “You can head back to wherever you live, I won’t be done for a while.” 

Harry ignored him in favor of punching in the code to the employee room, 

“Kid, you're not allowed in there-  _ Kid! _ ” 

“Whaaat?” said Harry loudly, momentarily taking the lollipop out of his mouth. “You’re going to take your lunch break early today? How kind of you!” 

Harry gave him a smirk as the door slammed closed.  _ Cheeky brat _ , Tom thought fondly. 

“What a nice dear you are,” nodded a particularly wrinkly customer in front of him. “Humoring a mentally ill child like that,” 

Tom was confronted by a strange urge to punch her in the face. 

Instead, he gave her a smile. 

“That will be twenty dollars,” he said, pushing the variety of sweets, drinks, and (seriously, why did an old lady need this much food?) in front of her. 

The woman smiled and gathered up her things. As soon as she was gone Tom turned and stalked into the lounge room. 

As he passed the vending machine, he stopped, sighing and taking out some money. When two bags of chips fell down with small identical  _ thumps _ he continued on his way, satisfied. 

He reached the lounge at last and sat down opposite the peculiar messy-haired kid.

Harry looked up, grabbing the bag. He ripped it open and started to eat. 

“Chips are good,” he said, munching on the snack tactlessly. “They’re almost good enough that I forget about how they increase cancer risk.”

“Typical,” Tom sighed. “I buy you something and you go prattling on about the health damages that come with it.” 

Harry looked up. 

“Did you know that-” 

Tom cut him off with a  _ shhh. _

They sat like that for a while, silent, munching on their chips.

“Hey, kid?” Tom asked. “Why are you here at lunchtime anyway? Shouldn’t you be with your parents?” 

Harry put another chip in his mouth. 

"My parents are dead," he said, "and the Dursleys, my guardians, are-” he paused, “very devoted to humdrum-idge. It's usually best if I spend as much time away from them as I can. They’re also rather neglectful; but hey, at least I have you!"

Tom nodded absentmindedly. 

A pause.

“ _ Excuse me!? _ ”

“Did you know that one in every five people in the UK have been-”

“Kid, back up,” said Tom.

Harry blinked. 

“So your family abuses you?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. 

“I guess?” he said at last. “It’s not physical though.”

They stayed silent as they munched on their makeshift lunches. 

“Hey kid?” said Tom.

“Yah?” 

“I’m stealing you.”

A smile.

“Okay.”

-oOo-

**Epilogue**

-oOo-

“Hey, Voldemort?”

“Yes, Harry?” 

“The crime buzzer thingy is ringing again.” 

Harry’s head popped into Tom’s room. He still had the same messy hair and green eyes, but his face was now partially obscured by a black mask.

“Can I have my suit, please? I think I left it in the washing machine after I spilled ketchup on it,” 

“Spilled ketchup- how many times have I told you not to eat with your suit on!?”

“Uh bu buh buh-” said Harry, trying and failing to clap a hand on Tom’s mouth. “Time's a-wastin, we better go quickly!” 

Voldemort sighed as he handed him said suit.

“You know,'' Harry remarked as he tried and failed to slip on the stretchy nylon, ''I've always wondered why you became a superhero in the first place.” 

Voldemort did not answer, instead choosing to continue fiddling with his mask.

“Aaah,” said Harry wisely. “It was an accident wasn't it.”

Voldemort glared at him. 

“I’m not going to forget about the ketchup,” the older superhero promised before sliding down the Super Cool Pole™. 

“Sure you won’t,” grinned Harry, following him down. 

**-FIN-**


End file.
